


Date Night

by phalangine



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 18:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12514116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Ash is sitting on Lorca’s bed, watching Lorca undress yet again. The guy is still built despite his years out of the service, and he doesn't seem to care that he's standing in the middle of his bedroom in his black boxer briefs while Ash looks on helplessly.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> from a tumblr prompt post: you’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but i’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you

Ash has been tentative friends with his next door neighbor for about three months. Lorca is a bit unorthodox, a lot demanding, and possibly the most attractive man Ash has ever seen. He’s also blind, which wouldn't have much bearing on Ash’s life except Lorca smacked Ash in the face with his stick one morning when Ash was passed out in the hallway between their apartments, having been too drunk to remember his key code the night before.

Lorca swears it was an accident, but he always gets that funny twist to his lips when he says it, like he's trying not to smile.

Ash has, coincidentally, had a crush on Lorca for three months. They're both former military, both recruited out of bad situations only to end up in worse ones, and Lorca, who got his honorable discharge after an accident cost him his sight a couple years back, seems to have decided that Ash, who just got out with his own pack of diagnoses, shouldn't be left on his own.

Knowing Lorca, it turns out, means knowing Lorca’s eclectic group of friends. There's Philippa, another former service member who is the only person Ash has met daring enough to ruffle Lorca’s hair; her somber girlfriend Michael who’s got mysterious ties to Vulcan and seems to be a surrogate daughter of Lorca’s; Stamets, a snappy man Ash tends to avoid; Culber, Stamets’ softer half; and Saru, Lorca’s former subordinate who drops by randomly to fuss at him.

Of the lot, Philippa and Saru are easily the most knowledgeable about Lorca. Saru seems to think Ash is going to take over fussing at Lorca, which loosens his tongue about all sorts of things- Lorca’s inexplicable fondness for tribbles, for one. Philippa, on the other hand… Ash isn't certain what her angle is. She keeps giving him knowing looks, though, which Ash is going to have to acknowledge at some point.

Probably.

For now, Ash can deal with his crush on his own. It's going well, too. He only spends a little longer than he needs to watching as Lorca walks away, only hopes a little wildly that Lorca will touch his face again like he did the day they met. (“I can't see you with my eyes, Tyler. My hands will have to do.”) And he only jerks off to the thought of those hands elsewhere on his body a few times a week. (It took some time to let himself try that, to accept that he wants Lorca and that that isn't a bad thing.)

So he's got his crush under control.

At least, he thought he did.

They're standing in the hallway at their doors, and Lorca just asked him for a strange favor.

“I'm sorry. You want me to do what?”

Lorca frowns. “How was I unclear? This is a simple request, Tyler.”

“It's not everyday that you ask for fashion help, least of all from me,” Ash points out. “Do I get to ask why?”

“Do you need to?”

“Well, if I'm going to dress you, it would be good to know what I'm dressing you for.”

“It's a date,” Lorca says shortly. “Something of an old flame. I haven't seen her-” His lips quirk up, and Ash just knows Lorca’s proud of the terrible joke “-in years. I'd like to make a good impression.”

Drawing in a deep mental breath, Ash reminds himself that this is something he used to do with friends. And Lorca, who's usually a better dresser than Ash is, probably just wants confirmation that he’s picked out something nice.

So it's really no skin off Ash’s nose when he says, “Yeah, just tell me when you want me.”

Lorca can't see him wince; he can't know the words take on a different meaning in Ash’s mind.

“Good. I'll see you tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours,” Lorca tells him briskly. “Bring your best taste.”

Ash nods to himself, watching as Lorca punches in his key code and heads into his apartment.

There's no way this could go wrong, Ash tells himself. He's been to Lorca’s place a number of times. He even slept over once when he tried to outdrink Culber. Everything is going to be fine.

 

**_xx_ **

 

It's a disaster.

Ash is sitting on Lorca’s bed, watching Lorca undress yet again. The guy is still built despite his years out of the service, and he doesn't seem to care that he's standing in the middle of his bedroom in his black boxer briefs while Ash looks on helplessly.

Every outfit has been good. Better than good. All of Lorca’s clothes fit him immaculately, from his fitted jeans to his traditionally cut black trousers. His fondness for simple v-neck tees took Ash by surprise, along with the fact that nearly all of Lorca’s suits are any color but black.

Ash hasn't said anything that could be considered insightful by any normal person, but Lorca seems to be gleaning a deeper meaning to, “You look nice,” than even Ash can find.

The pre-chosen outfits have all been discarded, the separate pieces folded neatly and placed on the bed, and now Lorca is just standing there half-naked, arms folded, brow furrowed.

Ash tries not to focus on the trail of dark hair below Lorca’s navel.

He clears his throat, and Lorca tilts his head.

“Are you sure I'm helping?” Ash asks.

“Of course you're helping,” Lorca says, voice clipped. “If you weren't, you wouldn't be here.”

True- Lorca isn't the type to spare feelings or waste time. But Ash can't help feeling confused, considering Stamets has repeatedly bemoaned Ash’s dressed-down approach to fashion in Lorca’s presence. As has Philippa. And Saru- as if a being that willingly wears cargo pants as a staple of his wardrobe has any right to criticize Ash.

Rather than push for an explanation he knows won't be given, Ash decides to take a more proactive approach to escape.

“Why don't you let me pick something out?” he suggests. “I'll describe each piece, and you’ll let me know if it works.”

“Can't be worse than what's already happened,” Lorca grumbles.

Ash disagrees- he can make a mess out of anything, no matter how fashionable, and Lorca set the bar high earlier- but he bites back a retort and focuses instead on hunting through Lorca’s clothes.

It takes him a while, longer than it should, but eventually Ash comes up with something he thinks might work.

“I should have asked this earlier, but how formal is this going to be?”

“Not very,” Lorca says, taking a few careful steps closer.

Ash holds out an arm instinctively, which Lorca takes, and guides him over to the bed.

“Kat and I have known each other for years,” Lorca continues. “We went through officer training at the same time. She had higher aspirations than I ever did, though, and damned if she hasn't met them.” He sounds proud, and his expression isn't pinched anymore.

Ash squashes a flare of envy for this woman he's never met.

“Well, this ought to do, then. White v-neck, since I know you're fond of those.” Lorca nods, and Ash hands the shirt over, carefully not watching as Lorca pulls it on. “Then, because I know you get cold, we've got a soft jacket- the light blue one with the big pockets.” He hands the jacket over. “And the fitted navy blue pants- the ones that don't come down all the way.” Lorca accepts the pants and, with one hand on Ash’s shoulder for balance, steps into them. “Last,” Ash says quickly, “there's a brown belt and matching shoes. The nice ones.”

He doesn't hand these over, figuring Lorca won't need to bother with them.

Hands on his hips, Lorca asks, “And it all looks good?”

It does look good- better than good. Lorca looks like he stepped right out of a magazine. Ash can't help but take in his heavy shoulders, his trim waist, his lean legs. Seeing him usually gets Ash hot under the collar, but seeing him dressed in clothes Ash chose is another experience entirely.

“Yeah,” Ash says faintly. “Yeah, I’m sure she’ll like it.”

“I'll trust your judgment.”

That's the last thing anyone should do, especially right now, but he can't tell Lorca that without raising questions Ash isn't ready to face, let alone answer.

 

**_xx_ **

 

The date goes well. Better than well.

Ash knows this because he's sitting on the floor outside his apartment, too hammered to enter his key code, when Lorca and his date arrive. They both look beautiful. Lorca looks incredible in what Ash picked out, but his date… She's dressed in a slinky black dress and tall boots Ash knows damn well are meant to make you look at her shapely thighs and follow them a little higher. There's one reason to dress like that, and one reason only.

“Casual”, Ash’s ass.

He has to admit Lorca somehow doesn't look underdressed beside her, though. He’s got his sleeves rolled up his forearms, and he's carrying himself like he's never been more at ease.

It's how he always carries himself. Ash is beginning to think it's mostly bluster.

They don't notice him- of course they don't- and that's a blessing. It's such a blessing, Ash accidentally says, “Good!”

“Yells” might be more accurate.

Someone- probably the lady, but he can't tell because his eyes are shut- curses. Then somebody with a softer voice says something. Then she says something.

Back and forth they go.

Ash tunes them out. He's not supposed to know about anything that happens today. That's why he went drinking with his friend from work, Tilly. Not only is she beautiful, she's nice to him. And she gets discounts on drinks.

The world tilts a bit, and Ash’s stomach turns.

People are talking again, their voices sharp, and he groans at them. He wants to go to bed.

He hears Lorca’s sharp laugh, but he doesn't spend time thinking about it. He just lets it lull him to sleep.

 

**_xx_ **

 

Ash wakes up somewhere that isn't his apartment. He knows it isn't his apartment because he doesn't own any furniture nearly this comfortable. He could stay where he is for years.

Going by the sharp ache in his head, he probably ought to try.

He's contemplating the logistics of getting to his feet without moving his head when he hears the soft tap of bare feet on hard floor.

“So,” Lorca drawls, and Ash’s gut drops. “Had a good night last night? Or was it bad?”

Ash closes his eyes and silently sends up a request to the universe for this not to be happening.

Something pokes him in the side, probably Lorca’s cane.

“I don't remember,” Ash hisses, his stomach roiling and his head pounding as he rolls away. “I don't remember yesterday at all.”

Lorca sighs heavily. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised. We were worried we'd have to get you to a hospital for a little while there.”

Ash shudders at the idea of returning to a hospital and quickly latches onto a different part of what Lorca said. “‘We’?”

“Kat and I.”

Stomach dropping, Ash finally glances around.

He's in Lorca’s apartment, no doubt. The comfortable surface under him is Lorca’s long black couch, the one that takes up the majority of the living room. Nothing around Ash seems to be broken or out of place, so at least he wasn't… messy.

Lorca is standing before him clad only in a loose t-shirt and thin sleep pants.

“Where is she?” Ash asks reluctantly, curiosity getting the better of him. “Your date went well, didn't it?”

“She went home,” Lorca tells him. He says the words delicately, like he's treading softly around something delicate. “We had a good time, but it became clear there were… complications.”

Ash may not be a genius, but he can put two and together and make four. “Complications meaning me, right?”

Lorca deflates, just a little. “Tyler-”

“I don't know what I did, but you didn't have to call off your date for me.” Ash gets to his feet unsteadily. “I'm sure I would have been fine.”

“Would you just _listen-_ ”

Ash shakes his head, grits his teeth against the churning in his gut the motion sets off, and takes a step toward the door. “I've got to go.”

Lorca lets him go.

He knows it's his imagination, but he's sure he can feel Lorca’s eyes on his back until he makes it into his apartment and closes the door.

 

**_xx_ **

 

Ash doesn't see Lorca for four days. He's careful about leaving earlier than he usually does and returning later. He doesn't loiter in the hallways. He avoids the elevator. He makes as little noise in his apartment as possible.

He even thinks he might have gotten away with it for a time.

Then the fourth day arrives. It's Sunday, which Ash usually has off.

He's freshly showered and barely dressed when someone knocks on his door. It's one knock, sharp and decisive. Ash instinctively knows who made it.

He pads over to the peep hole anyway, just to check, and there he is. Lorca looks as put together as he always does. His arms are crossed, his biceps straining against his black t-shirt.

Ash swallows the desire to pretend he isn't home. He's faced worse things than Lorca.

He just doesn't can't remember when.

When he opens the door, Lorca raises both brows. “I'm surprised you answered so soon.”

Ash shrugs. “I was going to answer it eventually. Might as well do it now.”

“Is that an invitation to come in?”

“Yeah.”

The door creaks as Ash swings it the rest of the way open.

Lorca walks through before Ash can tell him he can, his cane sweeping ahead of him. He pauses a couple steps inside, and rather than leave him to figure everything out on his first visit, Ash says, “The couch is about five steps ahead. There's no arm, and the floor is clear.”

Lorca nods and, with a little help from his hand, gently gets settled on the couch.

Ash drags his sole chair over so he can sit opposite Lorca.

Talking has never been Ash’s strong suit. Even when it's something he wants to talk about, he has trouble putting what he's thinking into words, and this is far from a subject Ash is comfortable with.

To his surprise, Lorca doesn't push. He sits quietly, hands on his knees, head tilted slightly.

Clearly, he expects Ash to be the one to start.

With nothing better to say, Ash begins, “I don't know what you want from me.”

“Who says I want anything from you?”

“If you're just going to play games-”

Lorca shakes his head and leans forward. His expression is as serious as it gets, and Ash instinctively goes quiet, his ears straining to catch whatever Lorca says next.

“I'd like an explanation for why you ran out of my apartment,” Lorca says slowly. “So yes, in that regard, I do want something from you. But beyond that- a matter I’m willing to put aside if you ask- when have I ever asked anything of you?”

Never. From the moment they met, Lorca has never been more than a figure with his hand extended. Ash has been as free to accept the hand and whatever Lorca was offering as he has been to decline them. Lorca has never- not once- made a request of Ash. Not even, Ash realizes as he thinks back, for something simple. Not for Ash to get Lorca a drink while he gets himself one. Not for Ash to hold a door open for him. Somehow, in the months they've known each other, Lorca has managed not to ask Ash for anything.

The realization sits uncomfortably in Ash’s belly.

Lorca sits back, his arms crossing over his chest. “Or is that the problem?” he asks.

Ash’s heart freezes in his chest. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I'm just spitballing here, but it seems to me, you didn't have any issues until you thought Kat was around.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Ash hedges.

“Then what would you say? Because if it's not about Kat, I'm at a loss, Ash.”

Biting his lip, Ash studies his hands. He looks at each callus, the scars on his knuckles. “We’re good at being friends,” he says slowly.

“We are.”

“Isn't that enough?”

Lorca’s expression softens. “If that's what you what, then yes. It could be enough.”

It is what Ash wants. He can't help asking, “But…?”

“But I don't think that's all you want,” Lorca says bluntly.

Ash runs a hand through his hair nervously. He doesn't like where this ended up. He knew they would get here at some point- Lorca’s too sharp not to have noticed eventually. Ash was sure he'd have more time to prepare. To find an answer to the question on Lorca’s face.

It's been too long since Lorca spoke, but he's still sitting there patiently, waiting for Ash to come up with a response.

“I can live with the way things are,” Ash decides on. “It's a crush. It’ll die down.”

“And that's what you want? For it to die down?”

“I don't see another option.”

Lorca’s lips press together into a thin line. “Do you not? Because I do. An obvious one.”

“Lorca…”

“There's no pressure. But you ought to make your decision with all the facts.”

The implication is obvious, but Ash has to ask. “And those are?”

“That I would like to spend more time with you, Mr. Tyler,” Lorca says simply. “The nature of that time would be any you chose, but, if you need me to be clear, I would prefer a date.”

And that's it. He gets up after he says it, as if he hasn't just shifted Ash’s entire world on its axis.

“You know how to reach me,” he says as he lifts his cane.

Ash nods numbly and watches as Lorca quietly makes his exit, leaving Ash to put everything back together in a way that makes sense.

 

**_xx_ **

 

Two days later, Ash knocks on Lorca’s door. He hears Lorca’s muffled voice shout that he’ll be right there. Ash waits, mostly patiently, for the sound of Lorca’s footsteps to grow louder and for Lorca to ask who's there.

“It's Ash.”

He hears the sound of the lock being drawn open, and a moment later, the door swings open, revealing a mussed version of Lorca that Ash has only seen once or twice.

“So, you've made your decision?” Lorca asks.

“Yeah.”

One of Lorca’s brows twitches up. “And?”

“And,” Ash says, drawing the word out, “I was thinking you should come over tonight. I've got that beer you drink.”

Lorca smiles as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Did you now?” he asks, voice low.

Ash swallows hard. “I did.”

“Well, who am I to turn down good beer? What time do you want me?”

_Now._ “Around six, if that works for you.”

“You know it does.”

He does- Lorca’s Thursdays are equivalent to Saturdays for everyone else- but that's not the point. “I'll see you then,” Ash says, feeling suddenly awkward.

It's been years since he had a date, and this is how he's ending that streak?

“Yeah,” Lorca says, smile widening, “you will.”


End file.
